Mace L Jackson Windu
by Richard Chaos
Summary: Who's the black private dick, that's a sex machine to all the Jedi chicks?


A/N: What to say about this one... well there are some very long reviews of the Star Wars prequels by a group called Red Letter Media. In these rather scathing reviews the more negative points of the trilogy are brought up. In the Attack of the Clones review the reviewer discusses how badly miscast Mace Windu was. For some reason this inspired me to write him as an actual Samuel L. Jackson character. See what you think.

And just to note, I'm really not a HUGE Star Wars fan so if I get things wrong uh... sorry!

* * *

The footsteps of Mace Windu echoed through the halls of the Jedi Temple, black velvet robes flowing in his wake. He was headed for the class in session, headed by Master Yoda. His eventual entrance only drew looks of fear from the younglings and a confused disapproval from whatever the fuck Yoda was.

"Yo, Yoda," he began. Waves of intimidation would ripple through the air, either by way of the Force or mere presence alone. "These little punks proving their worth yet?"

"Being made is progress," was the Jedi Master's reply.

Mace nodded reluctantly, his eyes intensely scanning the room. The slack-jawed younglings had carelessly dropped their equipment on his arrival.

"Now what kind of lazy ass Jedi would let a simple entrance distract them from their work?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"M-Master Windu, w-with all due respect, y-you are n-no ordinary distraction..." a stuttered reply came from a particularly brave youngling.

Upon this, his fellow initiates stared in utter shock. It took a moment for the subsequent paralysis to wear off – when it did they soon backed away. A parting of the children that left the young offender all on his own to face what would happen next. They could only suspect how terrible his wrath would be.

"What did you say?" Mace asked, in an unusually calm tone for the look on his face. He was glaring across the room in a frightening manner, positioned at a side. One eye appeared to be larger than the other, both of them equally intimidating. His rounded head practically glowed with the fury contained within.

"I-I..." the male continued to stutter, having realised his mistake. His pale, tentacled ass was about to be taught a lesson and he knew it. If it even had an ass.

Master Yoda sighed internally, tapping his cane against the floor as he shuffled from side to side. Master Windu was prone to these impromptu lessons, the Council had simply come to accept his ways as his skills were too impressive to deny. There was no worry of him turning to the Dark Side, despite his maverick ways his dedication was unmatched. Nobody was sure why this seemed such a sure thing.

"No, no. I said..." Windu continued as he cut the distance between him and the child by a few steps, his terror inspiring stare coming with him. "What did you say? You see, I couldn't understand the words you were saying as you repeatedly fucked them up."

"M-Master W-W-Windu, I... I..." words continued to escape the youngling, his tentacles unable to save him now.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!"

"M-Master W-W-Windu! I-I-I!"

"BASIC MOTHERFUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT?" The Jedi Master concluded directly in the child's face, leaving the would-be Jedi to fall to his knees and onto his front. He cradled himself for comfort as Mace turned with an impressive swish of the robes – taking his leave immediately after. No more words were needed.

Master Yoda shook his head once again, tapping slowly forward to inspect the fallen form of the youngling. Rehabilitation would likely be necessary, those who lived to tell tales of Mace Windu were usually never the same person they were when the tale was woven.

* * *

Mace Windu sat dramatically on a stool, leaning over the surface before him. The bar was located on some backwater planet, of no particular importance to anything - which is why the smooth Jedi Master took it upon himself to come and investigate rumours of dark activities taking place on the murky sphere.

After all, it was Mace's personal policy to never let those usually-hooded motherfuckers get the time to plan their evil schemes.

Unfortunately the rumours had proven to be just that and none of the pent up aggression stored inside our cool cat of a hero had been released.

Finishing the swill he had been served, he pushed himself from his seat and moved out into the poorly neon lit night. Even with technological might of the present day galaxy, poor care taking and general neglect meant the flashing lights were fading – the titty and tentacle bar sign now far more depressing than arousing.

Shaking his head In disgust, Mace took off on the course that would lead him back to his well hidden ship. In a typical situation he wouldn't care for such deceptive tactics, but there were probably some punk ass aliens who would manage to steal his pimped out ride around these parts.

With the only light in the alley being an alternating neon of purple and green, the Jedi stopped. Could this really be what he thought it was? Was someone really going to try and attempt to ambush Mace Fucking Windu?

The scuttling of several limbs across the ground beneath answered that question. The intentions of the being behind this were also made clear when he raised a blaster pistol, the scant light barely revealing the sludge coloured skin and many blinking eyes of the attacker.

Mace was heavily disappointed, a scrap blaster and no hood – this time wasting motherfucker was no Sith. So what was it trying to do?

A series of clicks and noises were emitted from the creature in response. A moment of silence passed.

"Give. Me. Everything. You. Have," an electronic voice translated. Mace recognised the small light that displayed upon activation. This punk ass bitch was wearing a translator _AND _trying to steal from him.

"Are you trying to jack me?" Mace asked in disbelief. And it occurred to him to add. "Are you trying to jack me with a fuckin' translator?"

There was a pause. The sense of fear was easy to pick up on as well. But another series of noises emanated from the creature, the moment of translation passing quicker.

"No. Funny. Business. Human. I. Will. Take. Your. Supplies," the translator continued.

Mace and his badass skills of deduction had deduced several facts about his current situation. The translator was practically antiquated, the being's goal was mere theft – this creature was nothing but the average scum of the galaxy. This is what he leaves in pieces on the ground on a regular basis, for some robot to clean up.

"Comply. Human."

"Shut the fuck up asshole," the sex machine to all the Jedi chicks commanded. "Let me tell you a little something."

"Unacceptable!" The clicks were nervous in their attempt to be defiant.

"I SAID, LET. ME. TELL. YOU. SOMETHING!" Master Windu reached for his belt and in one fluid motion his lightsaber was released, the bright purple light illuminated the alley and the reality of the situation became all too clear to the would-be Jedi-Jacker. "You ain't dealing with no average motherfucker who will give up his shit 'cause some ugly ass, multi-legged bitch from a backwater waste of planet holds him up in a dark alley."

Every eye was filled with fear, each limb that could move was moving backwards – the sound created could be described as what fear really sounds like, this thing was scared for its worthless ass.

"That's right. You and your stupid ass translator got shit to say now," Mace instilled yet more fear as he stalked every movement of the alien.

"Please. Jedi. This. Is. A. Mistake."

"You damn right it's a mistake!" The smooth anger bellowed throughout the alley as Mace lunged forward, removing one of those limbs from the creature. It fell to the ground in a thick spray of bodily fluid, accompanied by an unpleasant screech.

"Spare. Me." The robotic tones could not convey the desperation the being was feeling, but everything else about its current pathetic state did.

"Spare you!" Another brutal blow was struck, several more limbs were removed in a display of streams of fluid. The victim fell onto his back into the forming puddle, his desperate eyes searching for anything to save him. "Spare YOU? Spare a scummy ass piece of shit who goes around jacking up anything they see vulnerable? Fuck you, bitch."

"Hel-" the translator was cut off by the plated black boot coming down upon it, the destruction demonstrated by a few sparks and the fading plea.

Mace Windu was not going to listen to any begging. In a final, single movement of his lightsaber, the heat of the purple blade cut through any limbs that remained attached to the base of his attacker. "Spare you my fucking ass."

The sprays of bodily fluid added to the putrid puddle below, pouring it out towards the alley. Mace looked down on the fallen creature, every eye was no closed and no hiss could be heard. He looked down to see the puddle of fluid touch his boots. He grimaced and backed away.

"Aw... shit. Nigga ruined my boots," with this comment he turned in disgust and headed back to his ship.

* * *

This was a task beneath a Jedi of Mace Windu's rank. But those slimy Trade Federation motherfuckers were up to something and it was down to his finely styled ass to investigate.

The ultimate Jedi shield of justice had forced himself upon a developing situation, insisting he was to check on a recent shipment of Battle Droids; unaccompanied by anyone to contradict his questions, he wanted to find out the way they were programmed on his own.

Mace stormed through the halls of the ship, finding they were very unlike him - the drab sterility disturbed him. He reached a door, which slid to a side in terror – or its programmed automatic function, no-one could ever really be sure with Master Windu – revealing a dimly lit room filled with Battle Droids.

Each stood dumb and idle, already equipped – they were prepared for deployment at any given time. The disapproving glare of a Jedi did nothing to move them at that point. He moved inside to inspect them up close. The lighting quickly reacted and illuminated the true scale of the room. Row upon row of Battle Droid were being stored and Mace's suspicions were immediately confirmed.

"Speak," the only organic in the room casually commanded. Nothing happened. "Activate!" He tried again, disgruntled. Nothing happened again. "TURN THE FUCK ON!"

A lone droid reacted, tilting its flimsy head to look at the human in their midst. He was closest in proximity to the pimp of the Jedi, who looked back with an angry suspicion. Suddenly the droid's head violently spasmed and drooped to be pointing at the ground.

"Error," an audio response finally escaped from the unit, fading in and out.

"What the fuck..."

"Error."

"What you say?" Mace asked, astonished even a machine could defy him so. He stuck the droid upside the head with an open hand, it twitched and sparked in reaction to the blow. "WHAT YOU SAY!"

"ERROR!" The volume of the cry of faultiness had suddenly increased and not just because of the one droid. The whole assembly of cannon fodder had activated, each sharing the primary goal of informing the organic of their collective state. "ERROR!"

Mace muttered a command to shut Jedi Jedi up, who was going positively crazy at the scene before them.

"ERROR!"

"Will you robot assholes shut the hell up!" he yelled back, realising the futility. To enforce his point he thrust his arm outwards, palm open. With that the black power of the force was unleashed, lifting the sparking droid from the floor and firing it into the crowd of its comrades. This was enough to take those few droids that were hit out, the remaining horde all now staring up at the badass sack of flesh. And then...

"ERROR!"

"Say error again," Windu's tone changed to that of focus. He spoke as his hand wrapped around the base of his destructive tool. "I dare you." The droids switched to an aiming stance.

"ERROR!"

"Say error ONE MORE GOD DAMN TIME!" Mace snapped with a righteous and furious anger, ignoring any bullshit about how this would lead him to the Dark Side; he's as black as he's going to get.

"ERROR!"

That would be the final robotic chorus of the word. Without another word the purple beam was unleashed, immediately and skilfully aimed to cut through the droid that started this rebellious malfunctioning – and cut through it did.

Sparks flew and mechanical limbs dropped into a tidy pile of destruction. Laser fire commenced in response, all of it deflected away by the twirl of purple light which turned it back on the shooters. Droids fell in mangled, pathetic cries of the word that had doomed them, some more in tact than others.

Those that were spared by the rebounding fire and airborne limbs of their comrades did not have to feel Mace Windu unleashed. Led by the burning purple beam our badass hero cut his way through droid after droid, none of them posing any sort of challenge to the Jedi juggernaut.

Not one to lose point for style, Mace would casually use the Force to give direction to the chaos of flying parts and use them as additional weapons in this fodder massacre – at one point going so far as to form them into a temporary white boy sidekick who eventually fell by his side in a heap. That fine black ass would continue unphased.

…

One droid lay amongst the ruins, missing its arms and legs. Its head looked from left to right, sparking with each movement. The few sensors that remained in tact suddenly alerted it to a shadow being cast over it. There was only one way to properly assess the situation.

"Erro..." A final flash of purple light interrupted the attempted last statement, splitting the droid in half.

"I heard enough of your ass," the victorious Master Jedi presented a counter statement in his infinite street-wisdom. With a swish of the cloak he left the area, not to hand in his report of this shipment, but to get to his ship. He wasn't finished yet.

…

The alien assigned to guide Mace Windu through the building was waiting a floor above the droid holding room. They had been left there by the Jedi and did not decide to follow. Something was very wrong with their face. Before the being could contemplate this, they received a communication. The wrong faced being answered their communication device.

"I've concluded my report, asshole," a smooth ass voice announced as an image of Mace appeared on the device. "You might want to look outside."

Compliance brought a very unpleasant sight. A hole had been carefully blasted open in the side of the commanding ship, some force or another keeping it miraculously undetected. The droid's remains were being sucked out of the ship and into space, a cruiser arrogantly taking its place above it all.

"I got those motherfucking droids off your motherfucking ship," he confirmed.

With that, the cruiser turned – the request for kissing its black ass while not vocal was clear – and blasted away, leaving only justice in his wake.


End file.
